


cut clean from the dream

by The_IPRE



Series: The Cuddling Chronicles [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_IPRE/pseuds/The_IPRE
Summary: Beau is touch starved, and Jester is the little spoon.





	cut clean from the dream

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's "Jackie and Wilson", and I found it using the Hozier lyric fanfic title generator on my first go so. It really is true that there's a Hozier lyric for everything.

Beau shifted on the hard bed she was laid out on, stiffening when the edge of her arm brushed against the edge of Jester’s. There was the slight rustle of sheets as Jester moved a bit as well and Beau froze, some child part of her that never got invited to sleepovers not wanting to give up the game.

She didn’t exactly know what game it was, and the whole thing was stupid, really, it wasn’t like she and Jester hadn’t slept closely before, but this felt different for some reason.

 _Stupid inn with it’s stupid single bed rooms._

When they first got there Beau had offered to sleep on the floor, she was fine with it, really, but then Jester bounced down on the bed and patted the mattress next to her and said _Come on, Beau, the floor’s, like, super uncomfy, and I’m totally fine with sharing the bed._

Jester had then fallen back to look up at the ceiling so she didn’t see the swirl of hope-regret-anxiety that came over Beau’s face, and it wasn’t like Beau could just say _no_.

She usually could, was the thing; she was great at saying no. It was what she _did_ for most of her life, to be honest, to the point that it was practically her brand, but Jester with her infectious joy and stale pastries and locked up anger made things more difficult. She was so much, in the best way possible, and so Beau found herself sharing the one bed and trying desperately to get a grip because, _really_ , she was a grown ass adult. This type of thing shouldn’t be a problem.

Beau was tense as the air went still and heavy with potential again, her breath as silent as she could get it, and the millimeters between her and Jester seemed to thrum. She couldn’t really tell, but she imagined Jester lying face-up as well, thinking about that miniscule distance too.

 _You’re being ridiculous_ , Beau thought, and she knew she was. This wasn’t her first time sharing a bed, and she liked to think that she was so much cooler than this, but what lay unspoken was so fragile and important that she didn’t want to be herself and fuck it up.

She blew out a breath, and it would have sounded like a strangled laugh in any other situation but it seemed changed in the dark air between them. Jester moved at the sound, just enough that the bed shifted under them, and Beau could feel the weight of Jester's attention falling towards her.

“I’m so fucking touch starved.” Her words barely left her lips, quiet enough that they should have been swallowed by the night, and they had the touch of a smile to them. She meant it as a joke, and it sounded like one, if it sounded like anything at all, but there was a touch of honesty undercutting it that made her want to hide. She didn’t used to do emotional vulnerability, and she didn’t exactly want to now, but she was trying to get better about all that. It was still so much easier to hide that tiny question behind a almost-there laugh being forced back by the weight of the night, though, so she held her breath, chest tight.

A beat, and then Jester turned on her side, facing away. For a sickening moment Beau thought _of course, nice going there_ , but then the silence was flaking away again and she peeled her ears so as not to miss a single syllable. “Well, get over here then!” 

Jester’s voice was as cheery as ever but it was so unusually hushed, and for a moment Beau let herself imagine that she also felt this tension in the air, but then she chalked it up to the thin walls of the inn. There had already been someone hitting the ceiling underneath their floor with what sounded like a broom handle earlier in the evening when they had been laughing, she didn’t even remember at what. Jester hadn’t really cared, and that didn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing that she would keep in mind while talking, but it was easier to face than this brittleness strung between them. 

Beau edged towards Jester, her monk training not helping her be any more graceful, but she slung an arm over a hip and tucked the other to her own chest, and the motion felt familiar. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it. Jester snuggled back, and Beau suddenly found their legs tangling together, ankles locking and calves sliding against each other.

Suddenly she was a teen again, all gangling limbs and uncertain hands as she held on to Tori, feeling soft for the first time in her life as her rough edges fit perfectly with her- not lover’s, more than fuckbuddies, maybe girlfriends but that was a conversation that had never happened.

Jester was softer than Tori was, though, with a hum that sounded like it came through a smile and a body that pressed against Beau’s like they were made to fit together.

Beau tried to put her face against Jester’s neck, the air quiet again other than her small movements, but then she sputtered as Jester’s hair got in her mouth and Jester was laughing quietly and it felt like they were in their own tiny bubble, and Beau was smiling and she had to hide that away so she just pressed her forehead against the gap between Jester’s shoulder blades, and a tail was winding around her leg to hold them together and she felt so full that she would burst and so full of energy that she was going to shake apart-

And then Jester sighed, and snuggled even further back against Beau. All the rest of the bed was empty, but Beau’s grip on Jester tightened anyway as she pulled closer. The world around them was still, and she could be still to if it meant she could keep holding on to Jester. The press of her forehead against Jester’s back moved from tense to grounding, and even though she didn’t quite know what to do with the arm trapped between her body and Jester’s she felt...

 _Held_ might not have been the right word, she was the one holding Jester after all, but safe, maybe.

The stillness in the air had turned peaceful, and Beau didn’t know if they would ever talk about the strange comfort of this bubble in the darkness, but she could feel the rising and falling of Jester’s chest as her breathing evened out. Beau’s heart was flickering like a candle under her ribs and sleep still seemed so far away, but not because of the shitty inn mattress. 

“Jessie?” There was no response, other than Jester’s deepening breathing, and for some reason Beau felt a small smile creeping to her face. “Good night,” she breathed, lips barely moving against the fabric of Jester’s shirt, and she finally felt her muscles begin to relax. 

Beau was still so aware of every inch of her body, where the blanket fell and where her hand lay and where their legs tangled, but the rhythm of breath softened the night and she felt sleep slinking in the corners of the dark room, and she let out the breath that she had been holding as she dared to let her hand relax where it held Jester’s stomach, thumb moving in invisible increments.

The suffocating tension in the air from earlier had melted away, and the night didn’t seem so heavy against the soft sounds of breath and the gentle rising and falling of two chests as they moved in sync.

When Beau did ease into sleep, she decided that safe really was the right word.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos, or come talk to me on tumblr at [the-ipre](https://the-ipre.tumblr.com)!


End file.
